The Blackboard Jungle Arthur West Pfc
by WisdomWright
Summary: What happened to insolent delinquent Artie West after the final scene in The Blackboard Jungle?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**

I had nothing to do with the creation of the original work The Blackboard Jungle. Only elaborated on some of the characters just for fun.

I thought this the appropriate category for this story because: Your probably all Vic Morrow fans and familiar with this movie and you might also be interested in military history. I used 3 of the actors from Combat! in different roles (see if you can spot them). Why not? They loved to act and made such memorable characters that we keep giving them new roles, maybe they'd liked that. This is the part that some say typecast Vic Morrow. He did a really good job, in reality he was a cultured man that acted Shakespeare.

The book was a product of its time when it was thought that juvenile delinquency would cause the downfall of civilization. It differs from the movie in key areas: In the movie the West character was portrayed as the ringleader of the delinquents. In the book he had nothing to do with the beating of the teachers outside the bar or the record smashing incident. There was no truck hijacking. The teacher slaps West repeatedly and in the end it was another student that cut the teacher. I always wondered why West did not just leave the school instead of being meekly lead away to the principles office. The timeframe of this story allows the characters to participate in the Korean war. It must have been a perplexing conflict to those involved because politics and the advent of atomic weapons prevented the full force of the allied military from being brought to bear. The situation to this day remains unresolved. This story deals with war, delinquency, child abuse, prison camps, war crimes, character death, loosely based on some actual incidents that happened during the Korean war. Let me know how I did.

**The Blackboard Jungle continued: Arthur West Pfc**.

**Chapter 1**

It had all happened so fast that day. When West arrived at North Manual Trades High School he immediately detected something wrong. All the guys in the schoolyard were staring at him murmuring. "What's going on?" he asked. When no one spoke he glared at them and walked by. When he got to the third floor he noticed more boys gathered around the window in the hallway looking down. As he started toward them Boloxi ran up to him and whispered "Artie that guy they brained in the hijacking was related to the don. Their goons caught your guys and they ratted you out." West shoved his way thru the crowd at the window to look at the street below. Sure enough there was a sedan waiting, no doubt full of hoods. The sweat of panic instantly broke out all over him. He ran to the other side of the building, he didn't even have to look. A group of boys were at the window looking down. It was the only other way out of the school. That was it, he was a dead man. They had the place covered and would wait till kingdom come for him to step outside. Then it would be curtains and they wouldn't make it easy either, they did things to their victims to make examples of them.

He had to think fast. During the first couple of classes he settled on a solution. He would get a police escort out of there. When he got to Daddy-oh's class he would make enough trouble to bring the police. Giving the teacher a nick would do that. First he got the squares attention by blatantly turning around during the test pretending to copy the paper of the boy behind him. When Daddy-oh demanded the paper he balled it up and threw it. But then things got out of control when Daddy-oh had slapped him in front of everyone. He should have cut him to ribbons Hell, he could have cut up half the classroom if he'd wanted but going to the chair wasn't his aim. Maybe he would just get some reform school time. Sure enough when the cops showed the hoods skedaddled. As they took him to jail his only regret was not decking that ass kissing teachers pet Miller. Singing in the Christmas play, what a sap! He had a nice grandma that took him to her church choir. West really hated Christmas

He was left in a small holding cell at the Police Station to stew. He knew that jerk Dadier would press charges. Daddy-oh had it in for him from the beginning. Their first encounter Dadier handed him a pencil and asked him to write down the names of anyone in class who talked while he was away. As if making him a rat was some kind of honor. The guy had set out to embarrass and undermine him in front of his gang. In a culture of respect thru violence you had to take revenge or you would be the next victim. That is why he had set out to get rid of Daddy-oh. Bored and claustrophobic as hours went by he actually wished he had a book or something to pass the time. He wondered if they had forgotten about him. He couldn't imagine living this way for any prolonged period of time.

Rick Dadier was grading papers after class when he was surprised by an elderly mans voice. "Mr. Daider?" He looked up to see a bespectacled Priest. Standing up in respect he offered his hand, "Yes I'm Rick Dadier." He had heard about Father O'Brien the local parish Priest with a reputation for successfully reforming delinquents. He also chaired an interfaith counsel that found jobs for inner city youths. Seeing the Priest wanted to chat he offered O'Brien a chair. "I heard what happened with Arthur West and I wanted you to know something of the boy's background." Rick held up his bandaged hand to stop him there. "If it's about not pressing charges I fully intend to." "Just hear me out Mr. Daider, that wasn't really my purpose for coming here." The Priest said. "O.K. go on," Rick said sitting back ready to hear a sob story.

"Well, I must tell you" the Priest began, "It was one of the worst cases of child neglect I've seen." Knowing the slummy neighborhoods and the length of time the Priest had ministered to them Rick was unsure he really wanted to hear the story. "Originally it was a good family, grandparents hard working people. I was a Chaplin in the Great War and knew Arthur's grandfather well. He suffered a mustard gas attack that burned his eyes and lungs. He was forced to move to Arizona for his lungs you know, before Arthur was born." The Priest paused a moment then continued. "But the parents were no good." Rick was shocked to hear a Priest say that about anyone. "Terrible alcoholics with continuous violence in their home. Don't know why God would give such people a child." The Priest's face was dark and it twitched a little. "The child seemed to be born free of the effects of alcohol. We tried to persuade them to give the boy to their parents but you see they used the lad as an excuse to milk them for money. I doubt he ever benefitted from any of it. I later learned from neighbors the parents were going out all the time without the boy. They finally figured out he was being locked in the closet. They never heard him crying or anything. It just wasn't normal. At the time children were like property and there wasn't many laws to protect them. Arthur's parents were very cleaver about making excuses for his injures and school absences. A truant officer was sent to order him to school. Then he started running away, fighting in school and stealing."

"I called on the apartment a couple of times to talk to Arthur's parents about after school programs and summer camps offered at no charge for city youth. The father met me at the door with curses and threats of violence. The mother was no better, her parents died in an apartment fire. They'd left a small sum for Arthur's education. His father promptly got ahold of it and drunk himself to death. By then the lad was fourteen and beyond any ones control. He never stayed still long enough for me or anyone else to talk to him. He has only been caught doing petty crimes. Sending him to a penitentiary would only ensure he becomes a career criminal. Since he is seventeen I propose he go into the Army far from this environment. I still know a lot of people in the service that can keep an eye on him. I've seen a lot worse come out productive citizens this way. " Yea. Rick thought, or come out a psycho that knows a lot of ways to kill. Still, the Army had done him a lot of good. The Priest must know what he's talking about. "But he's already mentioned to me he that he wouldn't go into the Army." Rick said. " I Know the people that can convince him" the Priest replied with a wry smile. "Doesn't he need a parents signature to get in at that age?" asked Rick. " I'm sure I can get it " replied the Priest. Rick agreed not to press charges so West could go into the Army with a clean record. The Priest thanked him, shook hands and left.

Later as Rick walked home he considered West. Had he singled out the boy because he was the most demonstratively disturbed? He always did hated a wisecracking smart ass and West was the ringleader in most of the trouble. He had really lost his professional composure when West used obscenities in his class. Maybe he shouldn't have struck the boy forcing him to react so violently. Perhaps West hadn't done so bad on the intelligence tests, after all he was working with one hand tied behind his back. Falling behind in the formative years has a lasting effect. West had done well to keep up with boys his age. Rick had forgotten to blame the parents in his long list of those he held responsible for the state of schools and the delinquency problem.

Rick and his wife had wanted a baby so badly but were unable to. Yet these people with nothing to offer a child had exploited and brutalized their son. As he walked past the tenements he could hear the usual bickering coming from some of the apartments. He wondered how many new delinquents are being created at this moment?

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Father O'Brien knocked on the West's apartment door. It opened to revealed an inebriated women in a bathrobe. He was struck by the smell of alcohol and cigarettes. " Waddaya want?" She greeted him. He quickly explained the trouble her son was in and suggested the Army would be the best option for him at this time if only she signed the paper. "Well, what do I get for raising that bastard all these years so the Army can have him for free?" You should be arrested, O'Brien thought, glancing over at the closet where they had no doubt imprisoned the boy. "You mean you don't care if your son goes to jail? " the Priest stammered. "No skin off my nose" she replied with a shrug. Desperate for a solution O'Brien fished in his pocket. He didn't carry much money but came up with twenty-five dollars. She snatched it out of his hand and scrawled her name on the paper. As he descended the stairs she screamed after him "You tell that little bastard never to come back here!" "I'm sure he won't" O'Brien said to himself wondering how anyone could sign away their son for the price of a few bottles. Still he felt triumphant, He had wanted to get the boy away from those terrible people from the beginning. Now he hoped it wouldn't be to late.

The allure of gangsterism made it the highest aspiration of most of the boys in the neighborhood. After all, they had all the respect, nice cars and broads. Unfortunately for West there was no room left in the organization. You had to either know someone or be in certain family's. This side of town was dominated by Italians. Unfortunately for West he was Irish. Punks like him ended up in the river when they stepped on the toes of higher hoodlums. That was just what West did when he planned the truck hijacking. He'd grown cleaver enough to get others to do his stealing for him. West led his own loosely knit gang. As it turned out most of them were to stupid not to get caught. They were only to happy to point West out when questioned by the gangster goons.

By the time the screws came to get him West was ready to climb the walls. They took him to the police Chiefs office and sat him in front of the desk. Police Chief Murphy was a good friend of Father O'Brien. They had convinced many boys that were in trouble to join the military. They thought perhaps they would have a better chance than in the slum. "So, we heard the Italians were out to get you" began the Chief. How do the cops always know everything? West wondered. His friends were all blabbering backstabbers, He thought bitterly. "You know" continued the Chief. "You are to be charged as an adult and probably go to prison. They have plenty of gang members inside. I give you less than a week before you get it." West hadn't figured on this. "So what, I can take care of myself!" West smirked. "Look son," Murphy said leaning foreword, theres a way out. You can join the Army and make a new start. Your Mother has already signed the paper." "I'll bet she did!" West said. He also hated it when people called him "son." He stared at the floor, the walls seemed to close in, he broke out in a sweat. "You can't trick me like this!" He sneered, glaring at Murphy. "You don't know me from nothing." "Have it your way" shrugged the police Chief. "But you know they've got the finger on you. It wouldn't be that bad in the army. You could get paid to see the world. Just stay out of trouble, it could be your last chance." West's mind raced. The only long term plans he had made for himself was to not get his fool head blown off as an Army patsy. Well, maybe he could work this racket somehow. "My mother, she wouldn't be getting any of my pay will she?" "Son," Murphy said, Here we go with the "son" again thought West. "Don't worry about it, you've made the right choice, just keep your nose clean and your big yap shut. And for God's sake wipe that insolent smirk off your face! Any trouble from you and it's right back to the slammer with the Italians!"

So it was back to the holding cell. He was brought a meal that he gulped down barely tasting. There was no way out of this and it was his own fault. Maybe he should have cut out back at the school and taken his chances. But where would he go? He was seventeen without a cent in his pocket. Between the cops and the mob they would find him. The cell door opened and the "Witch doctor" entered. He had seen the Priest around since he was a kid. The way he looked at him made West nervous. He was always trying to engage West in conversation. Something about it was creepy. He would cross the street to avoid the "Witch doctor." Now, trapped in a room with him he was forced to hear what the old man had to say. "Arthur, I wanted you to know that your grandfather was one of my good friends. I don't know if your parents ever told you about him." West shook his head. "I was a Chaplin in The Great War. Your grandfather was in a gas attack. Even though he was blinded and choking he helped other men to safety. He had to move to Arizona before you were born for his lungs. He passed away about five years ago. I wanted you to know you were from a good family. Your grandparents wanted to raise you but your parents kept them away. I'm sorry all this happened to you. Please take my card, If ever you have any trouble call me. I still know a lot of people in the army." West took the card and absentmindedly put it in his pocket. Seeing he wasn't in the mood for conversation the Priest stood up to leave. "Good luck Arthur and god bless you" he said. "Thank you" West quietly replied. None of what the "Witch doctor" said meant anything to him now while he was locked up like a rat in a cage. He always knew his parents were garbage and they had tried to make garbage out of him too.

West was escorted to a train full of Army recruits bound for the processing center at Fort Dix New Jersey. The policeman handed West an envelope. He found it contained twenty dollars and a note from Father O'Brien. "If you should have need of anything, god bless you." Father O"Brien. West couldn't believe it, he never had this much money without having stole it. At the processing center he was issued a uniform. Shorn of his unruly mop of hair, given shots, batteries of mental tests and dentistry, which was a whole new experience for him. He really hated people touching him or telling him what to do. He endured it thinking of the alternative, Getting his throat sliced or worse in a jail. He was assigned to a basic training company located at Fort Roberts California.

West enjoyed the train ride across the country. He'd ridden the subway a lot but never a train. Since he hadn't been out of the city the landscape fascinated him. There was so many kinds of people. Being from the largest city in the world he had seen a lot of ethnicity's but you didn't really leave your own neighborhood unless in a group, say to go to Coney Island. There were gangs of all ages with boundary's not to be crossed. West hadn't seen many Americans from different regions. It was interesting to hear them talk. He had only seen or heard these kinds of people on radio or movies, usually caricatures of Southerners or Westerners. He used some of the money the Priest gave him to buy some food and a book for the trip. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad he thought.

West's drill Sergeant was a friend of Father O'Brien's and one reason he finagled West sent as far away from the city as possible. The Sergeant had some of O'Brien's delinquents thru his program before and knew how to handle them. They couldn't be motivated with intimidation but by showing them what they can accomplish. He paired West with a big Nebraskan as a bunkmate. He would have to be crazy to give a guy that big any trouble. Jeff Simpson was a tall lanky farm boy with chestnut brown hair an easy smile and friendly blue eyes. Very perceptive, he could find humor in almost any situation. He'd recreated the bars and pool halls of Omaha and was certainly no hayseed. Recognizing immediately West was "dark" Jeff gave him plenty of room. He liked mean dogs and horses and was always able to win them over. Early in their friendship he would gently tease West about his cynicism. In the city that kind of verbal attack would call for an immediate violent reaction, ignoring it would make you look weak. West, still full of teenage rage would loose control and call his bunkmate every obscenity and slur he could think of. The big Nebraskan would smile wider, confident in his size. Experience had made him wise. The few fools that dared to attack him or his friends while out on the town were easily slapped down regardless of if they had a knife or billy club. A lifetime of farm work had made Jeff incredibly strong. If West ever went to far he was given a playful shove that would send him sprawling across the room. Eventually he was able to make his sullen bunkmate laugh and they became the best of friends.

At least one thing West could get used to in the Army was regular meals. He really appreciated the Army food. His old lady had never cooked for him. As a kid he learned to rummage thru the garbage cans behind stores and restaurants. If you were discriminating you could get everything you need to survive. With the unlimited supply and variety of food and exercise West filled out and even grew an inch taller. Everyone called him Arthur there instead of Artie. He decided to drop his nickname to make it harder for the mobsters from the neighborhood to find him. The training schedule was rigorous from 5:00 - 10:00. Learning to use a Garand rifle, to disassemble clean and assemble in the dark. Use of the bayonet, grenades, rocket launchers. How to dig foxholes, hand to hand combat, how to work together as a unit etc. In the beginning West would be exhausted at the end of the day. Jeff was unaffected by the stress of training and occasionally helped West out when he was struggling.

West had always hated school. He couldn't understand the reason for learning most of the material. It all seemed like a waste of time. As a kid he thought students got answers by some kind of magic they knew but he did not. It grew into a deep resentment for a normal life that would forever be beyond his reach. In truth he was hopelessly behind from his parents keeping him home. He never forgot his embarrassment when on his first day of school he didn't know how to write his name like the other children did. The Army training seemed to make more practical sense. The reasons for knowing the material were always clearly explained. He learned he was smarter than most of his peers.

Away from the intensity of the city there was a lot of quiet times to think. West didn't have to plan the next days survival strategy, he bored easily so would read to pass the time. He started out with comics and pulp magazines which soon became tiresome so he graduated to novels and newspapers. A change began to come over him. Previously he applied all his new knowledge to how it could fit into a racket when he got back to the city. Then, as he listened to the other men discuss their future goals they seemed more realistic. While there was the usual talk of cars and broads they also talked about the educations they would get thru the GI bill and professions they could go into. After a while West began to think of other things besides returning to the city. Jeff had invited him home on their holiday leave. He noticed that West never wanted to talk about his family like most of the men did. Jeff thought it might be a sore spot so he never asked about them. They were truly opposites but had become good friends. West had also garnered the respect of the rest of the men by his encyclopedic knowledge of almost every kind of con, cheat, clip joint or cheap hustle you'd likely encounter in most cites. Growing up on the street and keenly observant nothing had escaped his attention. He was the youngest recruit in the barracks so it really impressed them. His warnings allowed his new friends to avoid the pitfalls new recruits fell victim to while on leave.

West found himself looking foreword to his holiday leave with Jeff's family. He'd never had a "normal" Christmas. His parents would go particularly crazy during the holidays. He had learned not to go anywhere near the apartment at that time of year when his parents were awake, even if it meant sleeping out on the cold hallway until they passed out. He wondered what it would be like without all the drunken screaming. That is why he was so disappointed when the call came down that they were to be shipped overseas to a place called Korea. He had read about it in the paper, no bigger than an American State. No one thought anything over there could last long.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

What becomes of those that go to war and don't have a nice home's or family's to return to? With no one to miss or morn for them? Would it take an extra tenacious person to survive and make a new life?

I couldn't resist putting a real horse reference in the story. Read more about Sgt. Reckless, Marine equine Korean war hero. An incredible true story!

On the troop ship over the men read, smoked, played cards and told stories to pass the time. When they arrived at the Port of Incheon they were issued winter gear and loaded into trucks. As the column drove along the only view afforded to the men was out the back of the truck. The countryside was a scene of utter devastation. Barely a building was left standing. Most of the populace had been brought down to living in the stone age. Any youthful bravado was soon squelched when they started seeing unburied corpses in various stages of carnage strewn everywhere. Most likely villagers and their livestock caught in bombings. The sounds of battle loomed nearer. Occasionally the ground shook from large explosions, jet planes roared overhead. West thought life is pretty cheap in this place.

They unloaded and marched with all their heavy equipment and ammunition cases up and down steep hills. Jeff ribbed their Lieutenant "Hey I heard the Marines have a horse to haul their stuff. When are you gonna buy a pack horse Lieutenant?" "Whenever I get around to the livery stable" the Officer replied. They reached their objective, a hill that looked like any other but was part of the allied line. They set up the radio and machine guns then chipped foxholes into the frozen ground. Of course theirs had to be big enough to accommodate Jeff. They were sweated up with exertion and night was falling. Sitting in the damp earth smelling foxholes they ate rations. Sounds of the battle were constant from their left. The sky lit up with artillery flashes the ground trembled. No one slept much their first night on the foreign battlefield.

When the morning came they had more rations and waited. The Lieutenant stayed busy with the radio. Battle lines were changing quickly and he was working overtime to keep up. The Sergeant checked the men and equipment for preparedness. As night fell the sounds of battle approached closer on the left. Then the attack came all along the line. Mortars landed amongst the foxholes. Arthur and Jeff huddled in the bottom of their hole. Rocks and dirt rained down on them. They could hear the Sergeant frantically ordering "Fire! Fire"! Glancing at each other they stood up and fired their rifles. A flare lit up the hillside and they could see the ground was full of charging enemy troops. The machine gun cut scores of them down. The enemy soldiers got within fifty yards of the American position, then what was left of them turned to retreat. The Americans were left with the smoke of discharged weapons and the screaming of the wounded from both sides.

The Sergeant took stock of their situation. The Lieutenant and his aide were killed ought right. The radio was destroyed. He sent a runner to the next position with a report and request for more ammunition. Then he prepared the remaining men as best he could for the another attack. The medic saw to the wounded, too many for one man to care for. The second attack came in the early morning hours. Arthur and Jeff shot all their ammunition then crouched in their hole. Bullets peppered the ground above and sounds of the battle the shooting stopped. They peeked out of their foxhole to find to their relief the enemy had been driven off. It was light out now, the Sergeant had them collect all the weapons and ammunition from the dead and wounded then share it out equally. He worried the runner he sent hadn't returned. It could mean the enemy was behind them. There was nothing to be done but hold the position and wait for help.

He was preparing another runner when the next attack came. His suspicions about being surrounded were confirmed. Arthur and Jeff shot all their ammunition. The enemy so close they could distinctly see the ones they hit. Then all at once they were out. Weapons useless they hunkered in their hole panting and waiting for what would come next. "Where are all the tanks, planes and big bombs we won the war with?" Jeff yelled. Things were quiet again, Then a shadow fell over them. They looked up to see Chinese soldiers pointing their bayoneted rifles down at them, motioning for them to come up out of their shelter. They had no choice but to climb out and raise their hands. The remaining Americans were herded into a group. The Chinese soldiers gleefully went thru every pocket and stripped the Americans of their last possessions. To them Americans were walking treasure caravans. Items not available to Chinese like watches, lighters, cigarettes, rings, rations, even American winter gear was in demand. West watched as the card O'Brien gave him and a letter of encouragement he had received later fell into the mud to be trampled by the Chinese soldiers.

There were lots of rumors concerning what happened to those captured by the enemy. Everything from being sent to work in Chinese mines to that the North Koreans starved prisoners. Only thing they knew for sure was that they didn't abide by the Geneva Convention. Greatly outnumbered by the bayonet welding enemy the Americans could put up no resistance. West looked over to see the medic, the wounded and the dead were being stripped of their belongings as well. The men were told in broken English to sit and wait. Some North Korean troops came along and the Chinese turned the prisoners over to them. The Chinese then took all the American weapons, equipment and left. It was clear from the start The North Koreans were not happy about being left with the prisoners. They became markedly unhappier when they searched the Americans again to find they had already been picked clean. There was much shouting and gesturing among them. The enemy officer told the Americans they would be marched to some trucks and the wounded would have to be left behind. When the Sergeant stepped foreword to protest he was bayonetted right in front of the men. Leaderless now they started marching. After a short distance they heard shots which could only have been their medic and wounded. The column hesitated only to be prodded on at bayonet point.

They were marched off the hill and onto a road. Marched for hours until it was late in the day. It snowed a little along the way and the men were cold hungry and thirsty. Allowed to rest in a roadside ditch they whispered amongst themselves speculating on their destination. Arthur and Jeff hadn't spoken much but stayed together. They noticed the North Koreans seemed even more agitated. The air was thick with tension and fear. Some of the North Koreans approached the prisoners and demanded their boots. A scuffle must have broken out since giving up their foot wear would mean a sure freezing death. Shots suddenly rang out, West was just turning to look when he heard and felt a sharp crack against The side of his head.

Next thing he knew it was dark and he was cold. There was crushing weight on top of him. It was a gruesome struggle to escape the solid mass of frozen bodies that threatened to imprison him. He crawled out of the ditch, and stood shuddering, staring down in mute horror. The Moon was bright and he could see an indistinguishable mass that were his friends short hours ago. Bare hands and feet attested that the North Koreans had taken anything not ruined by the hail of bullets. West swayed on his feet rubbing the blood soaked side of his head. He had the chinstrap on his winter hat so it stayed put when the bullet went thru. His uniform was frozen stiff with the gore of men that fell on top of him. Any attempts at getting additional winter gear off the bodies would have been futile since everything was frozen solid. It would have taken a chisel to free anything.

The wind was howling and with no shelter in sight West had to make a decision. His friend Jeff was down there. It might even have been Jeff's body that shielded him from the bullets. He didn't want to abandon Jeff but he was a stark realist. He knew they were all dead, he would be too if he didn't find shelter. Hiking his muffler higher on his freezing nose he tore himself away from the horror in the ditch. Shoving his hands in his armpits for warmth he started walking as fast as he could in the direction he figured they had come from. He remembered being this cold once before. When he was a kid he fell thru the river ice while playing with friends. They had all ran away leaving him to get out on his own and walk several blocks to his apartment. When he got there his parents had beaten his ass for coming home wet.

He made it for a while through the desolate landscape. The sound of his boots crunching on the ice and snow breaking the silence. As the sun rose the wind picked up. West started to stumble and feel confused, the effects of exhaustion and exposure taking their toll. He collapsed unable to rise. His addled brain thought, O.K. I'll just rest a bit then continue, A little rest is all I need.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Before long a truckload of North Korean soldiers came along. Usually they would just run over a body in the road and keep going. The driver seeing this one wasn't iced over stopped to rifle it for the prizes rich Americans were known to have. He found none that on West but noticed he was still alive and decided to take him back to the base. They had been told to mainly bring back pilots but the Commandant might like to practice his interrogation techniques. West was loaded into the truck. He woke up on the floor looking at the soldiers boots. The back of the truck was heated and West was warmer than he'd been in days so he curled up and fell asleep thinking, "I hope they don't wake me up to kill me."

He was rudely awakened when the truck stopped. Being grabbed by the collar and thrown off the back of the truck added to his bruises. His legs were asleep so they had to drag him into the building. A group of enemy soldiers stood over him yelling. The Commandant argued the merchandise was damaged. West had so much blood on him they thought he had been riddled with bullets. They pulled off his uniform until he was left in his shorts. Those items would be cleaned and sold on the Commandant's private black market. He truly hated Americans. He'd had a good thing going in his collaboration with the Japanese during their recent occupation. The Americans had ruined all that. Always an opportunist, he had to change his identity and allegiance to the North Koreans and Chinese. He'd risen to command this base-prison camp and was paid to keep a small number of American's. They like to spread out the POW's so there would be less chance of a mass rescue or escape.

Seeing West only had a slight head wound he paid the driver a bottle for the captive. Unbeknownst to West it was the second time in his life he was sold. The Commandant snatched the dog tags from his neck barely glancing at them. They sat his shivering body in a chair and tied his arms behind his back. Twisting the ropes so tight that West's left arm popped out of its socket. A white hot flash of pain went thru him causing him to yelp. Then the questioning began, he knew they were shouting at him in English but couldn't understand them. He had no intention of talking to them anyway. He stared at the floor. First came the slapping then the punching. He averted his head and tried to squirm sideways to deflect the blows. It was his experience haven taken and given many beatings that the more you react the more violent the aggressor became. Best to just clam up and hope they get tired.

He was punched so hard it broke his right cheekbone and caused the chair to tumble over. After a few vicious kicks to the ribs he was untied. The interrogator, maddened by West's unresponsiveness grabbed his chin and screamed, spit flying into his face. Exactly like West's father did when he would refuse to look at him. His father would enjoy seeing fear in the boy's face when he slapped him around. As the child grew older that fearful look turned into a glare of defiant hatred. To that his father would scream, "Don't give me that go to hell look!" and slap him harder. That was the look West gave his tormenter now. He worked his mouth to get up some spit to hurl back hoping to end it then. His mouth was just to dry, it was his last effort before his eyes rolled back and he went limp. Cold water and shaking wouldn't revive him so the Commandant ordered him thrown in with the Officers. West was drug across the compound and dropped on the dirt floor in front of two stunned airmen.

Captain Dan Ross was tall with dark brown hair greying at the temples and sharp bright green eyes. He had crashed early in the war so was the longest held captive in the camp. He kept up an unwavering confidence that the war would end soon. How could an enemy with such little technology defeat an international force with jet aircraft? He'd undergone captivity by imagining himself testifying at the Commandant's war crimes trial. They had them after the last war didn't they? The Commandant was destined for a hanging. An F 68 Sabre pilot, Captain Ross trained at Nellis AFB. He had seen plenty of his friends die in training crashes. That was the price they paid to fly the new cutting edge jet aircraft. To them it was an acceptable risk to be crushed or burned to death in a crash. He never imagined instead facing death like an experimental rat in a cage. Any thoughts of escape were abandoned early on. The compound was a garrison of solders with multiple layers of fences and guards. Even if you could get out you were deep in enemy territory, an alien instantly spotted.

At least he had an ally in the camp from the beginning. He'd broken some ribs when he parachuted thru trees. Being one of the first pilots captured he was valuable. They didn't want to chance him dying so they allowed the camp Doctor to see him. Doctor Kim spoke perfect English having being educated in Australia. He declared the Captain to weak for questioning, It bought Captain Ross another week before they did come for him. He became good friends with the Doctor during his captivity. Although kept on a tight leash the Doctor made excuses for inspecting the prisoners to avoid any epidemic that could be a threat to the captors. Having no medicine to offer he often turned to his mother's and grandmother's home remedies using plants he gathered outside the compound. He'd been a surgeon at Soul University Hospital. The North Koreans had killed almost everyone in the hospital and so many in the city that the Doctor had no idea if his family had survived. He begged the Captain to try and find them if he ever got out. To Captain Ross Doctor Kim seemed like a man that had lost all hope. The Doctor felt as if he had betrayed his profession, keeping men alive so they could be tortured again.

The other man in the cell was Lieutenant Tony Corso. He had come to this place through his own ordeal. Smaller and younger than the Captain with jet black hair and an olive complexion. He had large brown eyes and a scar under his bottom lip like many athletes have from falling and having their teeth go through. Corso was from Atlanta but grew up in military schools so he only had a hint of Southern accent. He never knew if he was hit by enemy fire or if his plane malfunctioned. They had been having trouble with some of the Sabre's on the line. All he knew was that it happened suddenly. His right arm was broken in two places when his ejector seat deployed. All hope of escape faded when he saw a dozen enemy soldiers running toward where he was landing. Unable to control his descent he landed hard. He clawed at his parachute harness but couldn't get it off with one hand. Caught out in the open, it was to late anyway, The enemy soldiers were on him.

He couldn't help but cry out when they grabbed his arms to stand him up twisting his badly broken one. They tore his gear off searching every pocket. Then they made him walk to a nearby village. He stumbled twice falling to his knees only to be struck in the back by a rifle butt. Some of the villagers stared at him as he passed. They shoved him into a small shed chickens had been kept in. The fowl were all gone but it stank terribly in the summer heat. Finding there wasn't a clean spot in the room to rest he sank down against the wall cradling his throbbing, swelling arm. After an endless, sleepless night they came back for him. The guard gave him a tin cup of water, he drank and gestured for more but was ignored. They made him get up and walk to a waiting truck. Once again they grabbed him by his arms to pull him up twisting his arm and evoking another shriek from him.

The truck ride to the camp was agonizing, every bump sent new waves of pain from his arm. The two guards that accompanied him were no less gentle when they drug him off the truck. He was taken into a building where and seated on front of the Commandant. He took one look at the prisoner, seeing the pilot on the verge of shock he ordered him taken to the Doctor. But first they took his boots and dog tags. His arm was too swollen to get his flight suit off and there wasn't a market for it anyway so he was allowed to keep it. He was walked unsteadily across the compound to the infirmary.

The Doctor directed the guards to put Lieutenant Corso on a crude stained table. Then he cut the sleeve off and examined Corso's arm. It was badly swollen, getting hot, the patient was sweating and gasping for air. "I'm going to try and fix it" Corso was surprised to hear the Doctor say in English. Then he said something to the guards he couldn't understand. They gripped his shoulders and feet pressing him to the table. Suddenly it came to him that they were going to amputate his arm right here in this filthy place! Overcome with panic he screamed No! NO! And struggled with all his remaining strength. The Doctor was gathering the supplies he needed. He turned to put a comforting hand on the pilots forehead. "I'm just going to set it" he held up wooden splints. He had no plaster for a proper cast. The Doctor had his own doubts if he could save the arm but he had to try. A man had zero chance of survival with an amputation under these unsanitary conditions.

"I'm sorry I have nothing to give you for the pain. I have to pull it straight, it will hurt a lot." The Lieutenant nodded resigned. The Doctor pulled, The patient screamed in unbearable pain then mercifully fainted while the Doctor set the splint. They put him in the cell with Captain Ross to recover. The Doctor was able to persuade the Commandant to procure antibiotics for the valuable pilot. It was truly a testament to the Doctor's skill and Captain Ross's care that Lieutenant Corso survived.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The Commandant liked to put baldy wounded or dying men in with the Officers to lower their moral. They had been kept isolated from the enlisted men to deny them any leaders. The Commandant would put the wounded men in with the Officers forcing them to share their food and beg for medical assistance. The first man had died without regaining consciousness. Whether it was from a beating or crash landing they didn't know. It greatly disturbed them that they never could get the man's name. They tried to memorize any features still intact. Since it was a mystery what the guards did with the bodies, the Officers felt it was their duty to someday be able to report what happened their fellow soldiers, just as they hoped someone would do for them.

The second man put in with them was a "rat," A soldier that cooperated with the enemy without resistance, even informing on his prison mates. The Officers could immediately spot one. Seldom did they have the typical interrogation wounds. They would fake injures and just exhibited a different kind of fear than the average prisoner. The Officers would not help them or even talk around them. Knowing they were wise to the rat the guards would take them away the next day. The Officers also memorized these men's names and faces since some of them were responsible for beatings and even deaths of other prisoners.

They had seen the new inmate brought in and since there wasn't the usual screams and pleas for mercy coming from the torture room they figured him for a rat. They were stunned when West was brought in and dropped at their feet.

"This guy's a real mess!" Lieutenant Corso said. West head was caked with blood he was covered with bruises and all manner of filth from the ditch. "He must have really pissed them off, dislocated shoulder too." Corso noted. It was a common injury to prisoners that were interrogated. "Maybe we ought to put it back while he's still out" he suggested. The Lieutenant held West down while the Captain forced the shoulder back into its socket. West gave an agonized catch in his labored breathing and writhed. "Were so sorry, we didn't want to hurt you!" Captain Ross told him. West lost consciousness again. The Officers lifted him onto the rude benches that served for bunks and covered him up with their mildewed wool blankets. Taking note of his features in case he didn't make it thru the night. All they could tell was that he had blond hair, blue eyes and was average height.

When West awoke again the Lieutenant gave him some water he choked on at first. "Soldier," the Captain said, " Were going to help you, can you tells your name?" West refused to speak to them either. "It's all right if you don't want to talk." Captain Ross thought perhaps the soldier was in mental shock. The Lieutenant said, "He's got a head injury, it would be terrible if they did this to him because he couldn't talk." They helped West get cleaned up and into some prison clothes. Later the guards brought a meal of foul smelling rice. You must want to live pretty bad to eat this stuff West thought. He managed to gulp some down. He learned later that if it had maggots in it the men considered them extra protein. It brought to mind the time he and his friends found a case of candy bars behind a store. They'd run to hide in the subway and divide their booty only to find the chocolate was crawling with worms. They had flung the candy away in disgust. What a feast that would have been in this place!

He watched as the gaunt bearded men went about there mundane days. In the morning the guards brought a can of swill that served for food. Then they would spend the day playing chess with crude figures they'd made, talking about books they read, movies they'd seen, talking about the camp, their pasts or their family's. West's facial bruises healed a little and they could see how young he really was. They left him alone since he didn't want to talk. Just shared their food with him. They could see the light of intelligence in his eyes as they followed them around the cell. West was trying to sort things out in his aching mind. What he had seen made the St. Valentine's Day massacre look like a picnic. Only one thing happened to witnesses were he came from. He didn't want to tell the men that helped him about it, possibly endangering them too. He didn't feel that telling them his name mattered. There was no one at home worried about his fate. He would just see what the lay of the land was before he said anything.

When the next mealtime came Captain Ross decided to warn West about what might happen. "Son, they might come back for you. There's nothing you could know that could be of any use to them. Try to give them what they want so they leave you alone. The important thing here is that they've tried to divide us into "Progressive's" and "Reactionary's," Progressives collaborate with the enemy. They rat on fellow prisoners. It's how they turn us against each other. They will offer you all kinds of things to do it. Just act stupid if they pull the ideology stuff on you" West already knew he would never cooperate, not because he was a particularly patriotic American, but more personally because they'd shot his friends and beaten him.

Sure enough the next day a couple of goons came for West. "Don't take him he's only a kid, he doesn't know anything!" The Captain Ross plead, powerless to stop them. "You're going to kill him!" West recalled his mother screaming those exact words when his father was administering particularly vicious beating. Not because she cared about him but because she didn't want the cops coming. He guessed that if he had succumbed to the abuse they would have just hid him in the trash and said he went to live with the grandparents. When he was gone Lieutenant Corso said, "Sheesh! Did you see the look on that kid's face. They ain't gonna get nothing out of him."

The Chinese had sent special interrogators to obtain propaganda films of confessions from the Officers. They had been brought close to death to get their signatures and filmed confessions. The films had to be scrapped because the men refused to follow scripts were too obviously under duress. When nothing more could de obtained from them the Commandant was ordered to keep them alive for now. That did not mean they couldn't be terrorized. They were the soft types that cared about others suffering, always demanding humane and equal treatment for the enlisted men. He'd taken account of how distressed they would get when he threatened to execute them in front of each other. This private was of no value and thus fair game. He had specific plans for the private, he would make it allot harder for the Officers to care for him. When the war was over he planned to sell the remaining prisoners for slave labor or just add them to the mass grave behind the camp. He never intended any of them would ever leave this place.

When the guards brought West in they tied his legs together and hands behind his back. The Commandant put his foot on West's back and forced him down until his victim screamed. Besides the burning pain in his shoulder West felt something give way in the small of his back accompanied by unbearable pain. The Commandant kicked him a few times in the back to boot. West later awoke in a solitary confinement cell unable to move. He was always was a loner so solitude didn't frighten him but the cold dark floor was all to familiar. He never really thought much about his early childhood. He had set out to be the rottenest punk on the street so no-one would ever treat him that way again. He'd done some pretty bad things but it all seemed like a million years ago.

As he lie there he remembered one Christmas when the grandparents had sent toys and books instead of money. His father had gone into a rage, the gifts were immediately taken out and sold. Then it was the closet for little Artie that night while his parents went out. He had been told the neighbors were listening and would tell if they heard any crying. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Artie would sit there cold and hungry. Sometimes his parents forgot him until the next day. They must have really resented that the grandparents cared about me he thought. The irony was not lost on him that he could have avoided all this by being murdered in a nice clean (compared to this) American jail. West decided that if he saw the Officers again he would risk telling them about what happened to his unit. He looked around the room to see a rats eating the plate of rice that he couldn't get to anyway. When the guards saw he hadn't moved all day they threw him back in with the Officers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

They had been worried about West when he was brought back in extreme pain. Captain Ross gave him some water and turned around when he heard a horse whisper. "Captain," he turned to see West's penetrating gaze. "What is it son?" He leaned close putting his ear near West's lips. "I'm here son," he said. "My platoon," West croaked, "All dead." "I'm sure they fought bravely" the Captain assured. "No!" West moaned, "Out of ammunition, surrendered, then they shot us all." The Lieutenant, watching saw the dismayed look on the Captain's face. What West said had caused the Captain to momentarily question his optimism. "What did he say? What did he say?" Asked the Lieutenant. "He said his platoon was massacred after surrendering" replied the Captain. "I think they've broken my back" West sobbed. The thought of of being paralyzed overwhelmed him. They carefully lifted him onto one of the benches that served for beds and tried to make him comfortable.

The next day some officials came to the camp. While the guards were distracted the Captain signaled the doctor to come over. At the sight of an Oriental face West shrunk back in his bed. "It's O.K. he is a friend" the Captain said. The Doctor examined West and was optimistic. The boy could feel his feet and move his legs a little. Of course he had no way of knowing how much damage there was. Once again he regretted he couldn't provide anything for the pain. He promised to bring crutches. West was unable to sit or stand long without the pain becoming overwhelming. He got some measure of relief lying down but that caused sores to form all over him.

Over the next few weeks West told the Officers more of what happened to his unit and how he survived the shooting. They ascertained that his name was Arthur Frances West and that he was eighteen years old. He was amongst the twenty-eight survivors of his platoon when their North Korean captors shot them down. West apparently fell underneath the other men and was overlooked. The Captain was from Connecticut but spent a lot of time in New York. He could almost peg the rough neighborhood were West was from by his accent. The boy seemed to be getting weaker so the Captain attempted to bolster his spirits. "The only thing that matters is getting back to your family." When West's head sank he asked, "You have a family waiting don't you?" He was shocked when West shook his head. Desperate to give the boy some hope he said, " Well I'd be proud to have a brave son like you, when we get out of here you can come home with me and be part of my family." Would he say that if he knew about my past? West wondered.

"You have to make it back and tell what happened to your platoon, Their families need to know" continued the Captain " But I'll just have to say there all dead, murdered." Said West. "You don't have to include the terrible details." Ross said, " Just tell them they fought well and how they helped each other. Its better than never knowing their fates." The Captain had thought a lot about what he would want his family told under different scenarios. West wanted them to know the truth about him so he went ahead and told them, "Look, I'm only in the Army because I got into some trouble." Knowing they wouldn't recruit anyone that did anything serious the men looked at each other and laughed. Trouble was the reason Lieutenant Corso had been sent to numerous military schools. The Captain said, "Yea, well I got into plenty of trouble as a kid. The only difference is that my parents could buy me out of it!" West wasn't sure they were talking about the same thing.

Over the ensuing weeks West's condition deteriorated. The Doctor had brought crutches but West could only use one because of his damaged shoulder. He suffered from fevers, the bedsores became infected and he couldn't keep food inside long enough to matter. He had a wracking cough that he knew must be keeping the other men up all night. West cursed that it was taking him so long to die, cursed his sturdy Irish heritage, cursed everything. He finally refused to eat. "Don't you want to make it back and get yourself a nice car and a steady girl?" Captain Ross asked, begging him to eat. "My family owns a couple of businesses. You could have your pick of jobs!" West would not comply so the Captain turned away in defeat.

The next day the Doctor came around with some herbal tea for West. They propped him up and he grudgingly accepted. It was soothing, as he sipped the liquid the Doctor and the Officers stood in a clutch on the other side of the room whispering. West's young hearing was acute and he could hear everything. The Doctor told them " I wanted to be sure before I came to you. I found out they've arranged a prisoner exchange, but only the progressives the sick and the wounded. I'm so sorry in isn't going to be everyone." " So they're going to let the rats out!" Lieutenant Corso said. They knew early release was one of the things they offered to those that submitted. "At least maybe we can get that kid out of here. They all looked over at West. "Please give some of the men to be released information about my family" The Doctor asked. "Of course! We will always be grateful for what you have done for us, thank you Doctor." Said the Captain.

When he left they turned to West to tell him the news. Before they could West pled, "Don't send me with the rats." "Look Arthur your sick now and you are not thinking right. You have to go back there and tell our families we are alive, you have to tell military intelligence what's going on here. They can't kill us if they know were still alive. I order you to eat this food!" West doubted what the Captain said but couldn't refuse. They started coaching him on what they wanted him to say to their families "Leave out the terrible details." What they wanted him to tell the authorities. "Tell them what they did to your unit and us here. Don't leave anything out! Tell them they paraded us thru villages were we were spat on and stoned." The Officers painfully remembered the day they were walked thru a recently bombed village, hands tied behind their backs so they couldn't fend off the angry onslaught. When they saw the lights and cameras they knew it was all for propaganda. They were horrified to think their family's would see them in such a degraded condition. "They beat, starved and kept us in isolation. They kept us awake for days until we were in a mentally abject condition to force us to sign confessions of air piracy. I was so delirious at the time I could have thought I was sighing my kid's report card" said the Captain. "Worst of all they knew all about our families, their addresses. They even knew where my kids went to school for Gods sake!"

The next day the guards came. West struggled to sit up but they took the Captain instead. West was visibly alarmed but the Lieutenant tried to calm him. "He'll be O.K. they will not hurt him" Corso hoped. A few minutes later he was returned unharmed carrying some boxes. "Well he really wanted to lord it over me that the rats were going home and we weren't. He gave me these Red Cross packages as if they were a gift from him," Ross snorted in disgust. He'd acted downcast when the Commandant gloatingly told him the news but secretly Ross was encouraged. It meant that negotiations were going on and the war would possibly end soon. What the Captain didn't know was that the Commandant had been told in no uncertain terms that nothing had better befall any of the prisoners or he would be executed. They also reminded him that they had informants watching and knew about his corruption. It seems that he was selling food meant for the mens hopes were further bolstered because they started getting better food. The enemy was interested in public relations and didn't want the returning prisoners seen in wasted conditions.

.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Operation Little Switch prisoner exchange commenced. Without warning, ambulances pulled into the compound. It was time to say goodbye to those that helped him so much. West was almost to weak then to raise his head. The Officers had hidden messages in his crutch and bandages. Lists of prisoners names and those that had died in captivity. Messages to their families and a report from the Captain with a special note about West. They did not want him mistaken for a rat. There were three other sick or injured men in the prison to be released so it was made sure they would vouch for West. The remaining twelve men released were rats. Two chose to stay as avowed communists. Twenty-three were kept in the prison including the Officers. Then the gut wrenching moment came when West was loaded into an ambulance knowing if he was leaving his friends in that terrible place. They shook his hand, "Good luck son" Captain Ross said. West somehow didn't mind the Captain calling him that. He'd taken care of him when he was helpless and saved his life. The Officers watched the ambulances pull away with relief. That kid had become so emaciated they didn't know if he was going to make it.

The ride over the deeply rutted roads was excruciating. West tried to stay conscious and remember all the things they had told him, he gripped the crutch full of precious messages to his chest. By the time medics carried him onto a ship he was feverish and soaked with sweat. After a day on the ship two men came to debrief him. West was sick from the medicine and trying to hold down the bland food they gave to starvation victims. It annoyed him, he really didn't want to talk about anything just then. He had turned over all the messages. But they insisted so he told them a brief summery of his story. He asked them when the other prisoners were getting out. They brushed off his questions, and for some reason were more interested in what the enemy interrogators had asked him and what he had told them. They got pushier when he said he hadn't told them anything. "You mean to tell us you didn't even tell them your name?" One of the men asked incredulously. "They had my dog tags, why would I need to tell them. I'd been shot in the head and couldn't even understand what they were saying. " West answered. They kept up the questioning and West got the sneaking suspicion that he was being interrogated again. "They really didn't want to know anything from me, I think they just wanted to injure me to piss off those Officers." Then they started asking questions about the Officers and their "conduct" West, became exhausted and irritated ended the session abruptly by saying he was to sick to talk.

West had been taken aback by the accusatory tone of their questions. He thought his ordeal would be over but the ship was making him claustrophobic. He had constant re-occurring dreams about the massacre and his friends still imprisoned. The medicine made him terribly sick and itchy all over. He wondered why they hadn't flown them back on an airplane instead of this boat that was taking forever. He started feeling a lot better when he got to Walter Reed Army hospital. The Doctors told him he could probably make a full recovery if he worked hard at rehabilitation for a long time. Some of the therapy was rather painful but he did like the pool for rehab patients. He'd never had one available to him before. He also really enjoyed being around women again. Some of the nurses were real pretty, he was at their mercy so had to be on his best behavior. At first he was embarrassed to have girls helping him with everything but he got used to it quickly. As he recovered he would joke with them, his charm made him a favorite patient on the ward.

At first he was forced to wear a metal brace that alone set off his claustrophobia. After a while he was able to get rid of it and use a cane. It was a great pleasure just to go outside on the hospital grounds and sit on a bench watching squirrels frolic. As he got better in comfort he was still tormented by nightmares and thoughts of his friends left behind. He wrote letters to the wives of the Officers letting them know he was in a cell with their husbands and that they were all right and how much they had done for him. Then he wrote to some of the men in his platoon's families. Those guys had been pretty decent to him. He wondered how he had survived when all those men with nice families had died. It was pretty tough when he got to Jeff's family. West had never had a kind loyal friend like him. He had been snatched away so brutally, writing to his family was almost unbearable. He soon got a reply from them, they thanked him for being Jeff's friend. He had written them about bringing West home for the holidays so they knew he must have been a good friend. They asked that he come visit when he had the chance. He also received a message from the Officers wives. They wanted to meet with him soon. West really didn't want them to come to the hospital so he arranged to go to the Air Force base where they lived. He looked foreword to leaving the hospital for a short trip. He had a lot of money saved up so he took a cab, another new experience for him.

He nervously approached the house and rang the bell. Unsure of how the women would react, what if they started crying or something? When the door swung open he knew that it wouldn't be a problem. Two smiling but determined looking women greeted him. They led him to the living room where they had coffee and sandwiches waiting. Then Captain Ross's wife spoke, "Thank you Arthur so much for your letter, our husbands have been listed as POW's now instead of MIA's. We think you should know that we head an organization of POW - MIA wives. We have demanded accountability for our husbands. We've been labeled as troublemakers and malcontents because we keep knocking on congressmen's doors, the chiefs of staffs anyone who will listen. I guess we've been a real thorn in their sides. We are not going to settle for their explanations that our husbands are just "gone." We know about the confessions they sighed, now they have been accused of disloyalty to our nation. We are not going to stand for this treatment of our husbands!" Please tell us anything you can about them. West left out "The horrible details" just like the Officers had requested, he instead emphasized how they had saved his life and the lives of other Americans. As he talked he noticed the Captain's two daughters spying on them from the staircase. They were just as he described eight and five. He sure hoped their dad would be coming home soon.

West was resting from his day out, he did not want to take a lot of pain medication, He'd seen junkies in the street and knew how fast one could become addicted. He preferred to rest after activities until the pain subsided. He was listening to a mystery program on the radio when two men entered the room. He could tell right away they weren't Doctors. He guessed they were from intelligence. He tried to be patient with their questions but when they asked him if he felt as if any American soldiers had conducted themselves in a "Less than honorable manner" he knew they must have meant the Officers. West's voice took on the clipped rhythm it did when he was angry. He glared at them and said, "Those men were tortured beyond human endurance, their families threatened. Unless you can tell me what you're doing to get them out of there I have nothing more to say to you!" He turned over to face the wall. "Private West you can be charged with insubordination and dishonorably discharged if you don't cooperate." One of them said. When he did not react they left. I don't care if they throw me out of here on my cane! He thought, then grimly he remembered, the army owns that too. Well, I lived by my wits before the Army and I can again, he vowed. Some of the nurses heard the altercation and went for the head nurse. She gave the men a scathing look as they left. Having her patients harassed was a new phenomenon. The General in charge of Walter Reed would hear about this.

One day West was at the hospital canteen looking over the book rack. A girl walked up next to him and asked him to suggest a good book. At first he was unsure that she was really talking to him. He looked around to see they were alone, He asked her what kind of books she usually preferred. She smiled sweetly at him, It was startling, for a moment he wished he could disappear. Knowing he must look like hell he decided to play it cool. They briefly discussed titles then he asked her if she'd like to sit down for coffee or a soda. She had seen him there a few times and asked some of the nurses on his ward if he was a respectable boy. They all seemed to like him so she had decided to approach him. He asked her to meet him again. Her name was Jenny Myers and she worked as a secretary in the administration wing of the hospital. Back in the ward he couldn't get the girl off his mind, he wanted to know everything about her. At the same time he worried, what if she knew he had been in so much trouble. Most of the girls in his old neighborhood had a screw loose. Eager to drop a kid on you so they could go on the dole, Just as likely to knife you as any street punk. This girl was much different. He was almost relieved after they had dated a few weeks she told him her parents were divorced because of her fathers alcoholism. He had come home from the European theatre a completely changed man who drank all day and woke up screaming at night. She was raised by her Grandparents. They had much more in common than he had guessed. He told her about his family, leaving out "the horrible details."

Father O' Brien visited as soon as he found out about West. "I'm so sorry this happened to you Arthur!" He felt partially responsible for West's suffering. West just shrugged "At least I escaped the city, wasn't much of a future for me there" He joked. "Mr. Daider wanted me to apologize to you. It was his first teaching job and he's afraid he handled things badly. He wanted me to ask if he could visit sometime." West nodded, he knew he had set out to make trouble that day. He sure wished none of it had happened. To Daider the whole West incident had been fortuitous. It had given him an ally and mentor in Father O'Brian at a time he was ready to quit teaching. The Priest gave West some pictures of his grandparents. Now West understood why the Priest always seemed to stare at him, he looked very similar to his grandfather. He told him his grandmother still lives in Arizona and badly wanted to hear from him. He told West more about their friendship and discussed forgiveness of his parents. When West expressed the desire never to see his mother again Father O'Brien said that was perfectly O.K. He shouldn't subject himself to that. West told O'Brien his story about the massacre, the Officers and about the harassment he faced from the military authorities. West was concerned the other men would face the same treatment upon their return. "I don't know whats wrong with the country nowadays Arthur." The Priest lamented. "People accusing one and other, trials, this 'Red Scare' must surely end soon. I'm going to talk to some people I know and put in a word for you lads. No one should have to go thru what you've told me about."

After months West received a message to call the Officers wives. Operation Big Switch prisoner exchange was taking place. Hand shaking, dreading any bad news he made the call. "Arthur they are being released." Said the Captain's wife. Relief then concern flooded West. The enemy had liked pulling nasty tricks. "Are you really sure?" He asked. "Yes, we've talked to them. They are landing at Andrews AFB. They want you to be there with us to greet them." He quickly agreed and after getting the details hung up. He wouldn't believe it until he actually saw them.

The day came and they all waited on the tarmac. The flight was a little late and West was tiring. He could walk normally without a cane but still had to build up his endurance. The plane landed and dozens of men got off and greeted their families. The Captain and Lieutenant were some of the last ones. West felt a little awkward standing with the family but when the men came they hugged there wives and the girls then they turned to West and gave him a hearty hug and pat on the back. They looked better than he remembered since they had received better food the past months. " Well you coming home with us Arthur?" Captain Ross asked. "No, not today. I have to stay at the hospital for a little while longer." West said. His back was really bothering him now and he had to get back and lie down. "We'll come visit you there," the Lieutenant said.

They ended up meeting over a beer. The Officers did not want their wives to hear them discuss the war. They took stock of their wounds. "They say I'll recover if I keep at it" said West. "My rotator cuff is mangled, might always give me trouble." The Lieutenant had nerve damage to his arm but he was just glad to still have it. The Captain had some trouble with his vision from the beatings that would end his flying career. "Did they ever find anything out about your platoon?" asked the Lieutenant. "They told me that, these were acts carried out by disgruntled individuals, I showed them on a map where I thought it happened and they said it was in the Demilitarized Zone. Unless something changes their bodies will never be recovered. What about Doctor Kim, was he able to get out? I asked the red cross about his family but they didn't have any information about Koreans." "He's still back there" Captain Ross lamented. "I'm going to keep trying to find his family to let them know about him. He saved so many lives at his own risk." They drank their beers in silence. "I'll tell you one thing," the Lieutenant said trying to lighten the mood. "I'm going to move somewhere I'll never be cold again!" They chuckled.

Lieutenant Corso went to school to be an aircraft engineer, And of course moved to a more temperate climate in California. Captain Ross ran his family businesses and took care of his aging parents. He relished being with his family after such a long absence. Instead of testifying against the Commandant, Captain Ross and Private West testified in Senate and Congressional hearings investigating war crimes. Because of the Korean war veterans experience the Military Code of Conduct was revised. Forcing ideology thru psychological torture on prisoners was relatively new in modern warfare. Captain Ross stayed involved in veterans and POW organizations. He really never blamed those that cooperated with the enemy. He knew anyone could be broken, but there was a handful of men that had bullied their fellow prisoners, stole their food, blankets, informed on them. He considered these acts unforgivable since they led to deaths of prisoners. Some of these men were tried and convicted of their crimes. The three friends met often They were pragmatic about the war. They felt different from other veterans, for them there was no victory parade. Their loyalty had been questioned. Sometimes they would hear about the state of affairs in Korea on the news and it would bring back the memories.

True to his word Captain Ross brought West home and made him part of his family. Jenny would join them for picnics, holidays, birthdays, etc. At first it all seemed so phony to West. No one ever raised their voice in the Captain's house. He learned that it was the way a normal family operated. Occasionally Arthur and Jenny would take the Ross's daughters to activities like the zoo or a circus, things West never got to enjoy as a kid. They observed the Ross's closely as they seemed to have domestic bliss. The young couple wanted to get married but didn't want to make the mistakes of their parents so weren't in a hurry. Arthur and Jenny planned a train trip to meet his grandmother in Arizona. Even though Captain Ross offered West jobs he decided to try going to school first. He had no idea what he wanted to do so he started out with some general studies to catch up. Captain Ross offered to tutor him if he ever got stuck. Father O'Brien and Rick Dadier came to visit West at the Ross's house. They agreed later that they had never seen anyone turn around so completely. Arthur West did not even look like the same person they knew before. He had partially educated himself thru reading and met people that would help him. He'd gone from being an angry delinquent to a confident young man that testified on Capital Hill. Things were really looking up for Arthur West.

The End


End file.
